Seeing Pat again only whetted my appetite for more of him, and I can’t have that. His apology doesn’t change his character or his character flaws. Eventually, Pat will tire of Sheet Cake. A small town like this isn’t big enough for his personality. Or his ego. He’ll leave, but I need to help speed the process along. I won’t let myself get attached only to be hurt again. And I definitely won’t let him hurt Jo, who has been bringing him up daily, wondering when he and Mr. Tank will be back. The last thing Jo needs is another person leaving her.
“Chevy says their lawyer is on the way. They should be out within the hour,” Winnie says.
I pull back out into traffic, headed toward downtown. “You know what? I’m on my way. Pat needs a little encouragement to leave town, and I’m happy to give him a reason. Text Val for me and tell her to meet us there. We’ve got some butt-kicking to do.”
Chapter Thirteen
Lindy
By the time I park at the municipal building, I’ve listened to “Eye of the Tiger” no less than four times, and I am ready to rise up to the challenge of my rival. Who, in this case, is Patrick Graham.
“You’ve got this,” I tell myself. “I’ve got this,” I agree. Because it’s totally normal to give yourself pep talks in your car. I’m going to count this as manifesting, and I need to manifest myself some strength right now.
Winnie and Val are waiting outside the building, looking like polar opposites—if we’re talking opposite poles on two different planets. Win has on high-waisted jeans, a pink short-sleeved sweater, and a bandana as a headband. Val has on overalls today, no less paint-splattered than her coveralls, and is barefoot. Her hair is twisted into a knot with a paintbrush.
For a moment, the three of us grasp hands in a little circle, foreheads together. It’s more group huddle than group hug. “We are such dorks,” I say.
“Total dorks,” Winnie agrees.
“Queens of Dorktonia,” Val says. “But why are we here? Winnie said something about butts.”
We pull back and I glare at Winnie. “That’s what you told her?”
Win smiles, looking totally unrepentant. “I knew it would get her here.”
The only butt Val’s interested in is Chevy’s. And I think he’s the only one in town who doesn’t know it.
“Plus, it is about butts. Lindy needs our help kicking some butts out of town.”
Val looks confused.
“No actual butts will be kicked,” I say.
“Figurative butt-kicking only.” With Winnie, it’s hard to know—it could go either way. Honestly, I’d kind of love to unleash Winnie’s five-foot-two fury on Pat.
Val puts both hands on her hips. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”
I let Winnie explain about the fight at Backwoods Bar as we walk up the steps to the municipal building. This is the only building besides the library not falling apart, solely because the Waters family pays to keep it up. They have a massive plaque out front. I suspect someone comes by to polish it every morning. As we walk by, I swear I can see my pores in the shiny reflection.
The metal detectors in the lobby are a stark contrast to the balusters and curved wooden railing for the grand staircase leading upstairs to the courthouse and mayor’s office.
“I’m back, Burt!” Winnie calls. The security guard, who also happens to be Judge Judie’s husband, hops down from his stool and runs a hand over his mustache.
“Lindy, Val. What brings you two down this fine morning?”
“They’re visiting inmates,” Winnie says.
“Sounds like a good time,” he says. Val sets her purse on the conveyor belt, and Burt sighs. “You don’t still carry that knife in your boot, do you, Val?”